


Nothing More To Give

by perfect_cadence (Perfect_Cadence)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Heavy on the angst, Ignis needs a hug, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-04 19:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12175026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perfect_Cadence/pseuds/perfect_cadence
Summary: The other Chocobros discover that Ignis knew they were leaving Regis & Clarus behind to die. They do not handle the knowledge well.When he's turned away from the only friends he has, what is left for Ignis but oblivion?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt I filled (though currently unfinished). A bit of a change from the usual fluff.

“You _knew_?!”

The atmosphere in the Throne Room became glacial in seconds.

They had been gathered together, just the four of them, to privately toast the memory of Regis and Clarus. The king and his shield had been buried next to each other with every honour that morning; their bodies having been removed from the degrading mockery of a resting place given by Ardyn as soon as Noctis had woken up after defeating him. The council members who’d died with them, including Ignis’s uncle, were to be buried the next day.

Prompto and Ignis had done their best to give what comfort they could to Noctis and Gladio; their terrible grief and loss made fresh again by the sight of their fathers’ bodies so humiliatingly desecrated by the man who’d caused all of Eos so much heartache.

They had been drinking to their memory – Noctis and Gladio perhaps consuming more than they should have in their despair – when Gladio had lamented that they had not been in the Citadel when everything had gone wrong. They could have helped them. They might have saved even one of them.

Ignis had tried to offer some sort of salve to his boyfriend’s recriminations – telling them that the King and Shield had taken comfort that their sons would be safe; it had given them some measure of peace and been their last wish. In doing so, he had inadvertently revealed that Regis had confided everything to him the day before they departed, under strict orders to keep it secret. All hell had broken lose.

“I barely acknowledged him when I said goodbye!” Noctis was incandescent. “You knew it was the last time I’d ever see him and you said nothing!”

“What could I have said?” Ignis said helplessly. “Your father charged me with silence! He said it was my job to protect you and the best way I could do that was get you safely to Altissa.”

“Your own uncle was here too, and you just left!” Noctis raged, seizing his advisor by the lapels of his jacket and jerking him forward sharply. "Fuck, I always knew you were cold blooded…but you’re a fucking _reptile_!"

The insult stung. “Your father asked me to give him my solemn word that I would not tell you,” Ignis tried to explain, his tone pleading for understanding as he struggled for balance. It had been a terrible burden for him to bear. “It’s my job to obey the crown…”

“Fuck you, you heartless prick! Fuck you and your job!” Noctis spat, shoving Ignis back roughly.

Unprepared for the shove, Ignis staggered back, his arms flying out blindly to steady himself. He missed a step and went topping over. His hands grasped for purchase, and he eventually caught a table covering, bringing the pot of boiling tea he himself had been drinking down over his leg. He cried out painfully at the touch of burning fluid and tried to scramble shakily to his feet again. No one came to assist him. His heart felt suddenly squeezed by ice.

“Get out of the citadel!” Noctis’s voice rose over the panicked thundering in his ears. “I don’t want you in my sight again!”

He tried to speak, but his throat had closed up. All he could do was listen as Noctis stormed away, having dismissed him from the place at his side Ignis had occupied since he was a child.

The silence which followed was deafening.

“Gladio?” Ignis asked, his voice shaking as he reached out desperately. He’d lost his bearings now; couldn’t figure out where Gladio and Prompto were or where in the room he himself was. He hated his lack of sight more than ever; unable to see his boyfriend’s face. “I’m sorry…I…”

“Don’t,” Gladio said harshly. The disgust in his tone hurt more than if he'd slapped Ignis. “I don’t wanna hear how duty was more important. It was my fucking _Dad_ , you bastard! I could at least have said goodbye properly, told him how much I loved him. We could have taken Iris. And you just stood there, looking like we were going on any other road trip, knowing what it was gonna do to us. How could you even…we’re through, Ignis. Just go. I can't stand the sight of you right now."

Gladio’s heavy footsteps followed Noct’s and Ignis felt as though the floor was rolling underneath him. Everything was happening so fast – Noct had gone and Gladio had gone before Ignis could even explain why he’d sworn to do as the King asked; honouring the sacrifice Regis and Clarus planned to make by keeping his promise and keeping both Noctis and Gladio safe.

“I never said goodbye to my parents either,” Prompto’s voice said, oddly flat and cold, and Ignis jumped when he realised the gunslinger was standing right behind him. He’d been too dazed to hear him approach. “I didn’t catch them before we left. I sent a text. I thought I’d be back in a few months!” Firm hands seized Ignis unyieldingly by the biceps and spun him around. “The door’s over there.”

Deserted by the three people he’d thought to stand beside until the end and ordered out as though he were an unruly pet, Ignis had no option but to stagger for the door on shaking legs, his right thigh still screaming in pain from the burn. He pushed his way out and the door clicked shut behind him with a horrible sense of finality.

He'd had one last order from his king. He'd better obey.

_I didn’t ask for any of this_ , Ignis thought feverishly, feeling his way down the corridor in his panicked, dazed disorientation. He’d never asked to be taken away from his parents at age six and raised at the citadel instead. He’d never asked to be pushed harder and harder by merciless tutors until he was completing university level work while still a child so that he could be fit for the role of advisor. He’d never asked to be away from his village when the empire raised it, destroying everyone within it and leaving him a confused and frightened orphan at eight. He’d just accepted it when he was told that was his role and he must do everything he could to be worthy of it.

But he’d quickly come to love Noctis, truly, seeing in him the little brother he had never had, and so devoting his whole life to him had never seemed a hardship. He’d never resented the hard work, enjoying the thought of being useful to his friend when he grew up and delighting in the knowledge he gained. The canings he’d received from tutors for giving into Noct’s whims and sneaking out with him were made bearable because he’d made Noct smile. Adding cleaner, chef, chauffer and personal secretary to his already lengthy list of roles when the prince had moved out had been something he’d just soldiered on with, despite Noctis’s teenage ingratitude. He’d found his place in the world; to serve and to assist, and he’d come to like doing it. 

Until he’d obeyed the last request of the King and Master Clarus without question, and it had brought everything tumbling down around him.

He’d given the royal line of Lucis his childhood, his adolescence, his loyalty and his _sight_. He’d given Gladio his heart, his trust and his body. And it had still not been enough. 

_“Get out of the citadel. I don’t want you in my sight again.”_

_“We’re through, Ignis. Just go.”_

He was out of things to give now.

_I should have died when I was eight,_ Ignis realised as, shaking, he found himself outside. _I should have been at home when the Empire came. I should have died with my mother and father and never known any of this. I should have been dead long ago._

And just like that, he came to his decision. He’d given up his entire life for someone who now wanted nothing to do with him. What was left for him now but oblivion?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains the suicide attempt so please do not read if this will cause you upset.'

"Sir? Can I help you?” asks the voice of an anxious new Crownsguard recruit when he manages to make his way down the steps of the Citadel.

“Yes,” Ignis seizes the opportunity gladly. His light-headedness is fading a little now that he’s managed to fix on a plan of action. He always had been of a practical bent; no sense in delaying the inevitable. “I need to get to get outside the city. I wonder if one of the guard would be so good as to give me a ride?” 

“Of course. But sir, your leg,” presses the recruit, his tone concerned.

He can feel that his skin has blistered, but Ignis waves the man’s concerns aside. “A minor error,” he lies. “Not an inconvenience in the circumstances.”

Not when he’ll be dead by tomorrow.

OOO

Ignis was so caught up in the tangle of his own thoughts that he found himself at the site of their last camp together without really knowing how he got there. He was dimly aware that the helpful Crownsguard recruit had given him a lift and offered to wait around for him. He’d turned the fellow down, saying that he’d organised his own transport for the rest of his journey.

It was true, if a little heavy on the symbolic!

Alone now, Ignis sat down on the ground, wincing again as the material of his trousers dragged over the skin made sore and tender by the scalding tea. He could feel by the change in temperature that it must be early evening – he went to confirm this by checking his phone, only to find it was no longer in his pocket. It must have fallen out when he’d taken that tumble in the throne room.

Well, he’d not be requiring it much longer, he supposed.

He sat for what might have been thirty minutes or three hours, turning the day’s happenings over in his mind and sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness of his own misery. The last time he’d been here, he’d been facing almost certain death, but he’d not been alone. Not like he was now.

He’d lost everything - _everything_ \- the space of one afternoon. His purpose, his home…and the only friends he’d ever had. With the unending workload he’d had as a teenager and the constant reminders that Noctis, and only Noctis, must be his priority, he’d never had time to socialise, hit the town or any other usual recreational activity that normal teenagers undertook. In his life, he’d had all of three friends…and all three of them had turned away and ordered him to leave that day.

_"We’re through Ignis. Just go."_

Gladio would find someone else, of course he would. Ignis had always known he’d been punching above his weight there. Gladio had had an extensive string of girlfriends before the wholly unexpected had happened and the two of them had kissed one wonderful afternoon in the training rooms. His relationship with the Shield had been the best thing to ever happen to the advisor…and he was glad that he wouldn’t be there to see himself replaced. At least he would not have that pain. Gladio would find a nice wife, someone who wasn’t crippled, someone who could carry on the Amicitia line, someone who didn’t keep secrets at the King’s command. Someone not like him.

_Get out of the Citadel!_

_The door’s over there!_

Prompto and Noctis would always have each other. In Prompto, Noctis could have a friend who didn’t nag him about duty, or punctuality, or force him to eat his vegetables. Prompto put Noct’s happiness first and foremost, livened his day with humour, could indulge him in every way the advisor could not. It had hurt a little, to see his place as Noctis’s closest friend and confidant be taken by Prompto when they were younger, but he’d always consoled himself that there was still something he could offer Noctis, still a way for him to help. Not any longer, though.

Ignis’s stomach twisted bitterly when he realised sadly that they’d all manage perfectly well without him. He was the one so pathetically dependant on them to give his life meaning.

Cor…

He felt bad about Cor. The Marshal had quickly become a big part of his life when he’d been brought to Insomnia as a child. Noctis and Gladio would never understand the huge cultural shift it was to go from living in a less than affluent household to dwelling with royalty. Their positions were always secure by virtue of their birth; they’d never had to worry about not being good enough for them.

Cor had understood though; he’d been through it all himself. He had been a source of unending support and patience for Ignis, and had become something of a surrogate father to the young advisor. He’d been someone who hadn’t just cared about the advisor’s abilities or what he could offer the Citadel – he’d cared about Ignis as a person and looked after his wellbeing. This would hurt him.

Yes, he really did feel bad about Cor. Ignis found himself lamenting his lack of phone even more. At least he might have sent a text to say goodbye.

At least by doing this out of the city, he was sparing someone the distress of finding his body, the inconvenience of having to clear up afterwards and have him buried. With any luck, maybe something might find his remains out here – there were still some wildlife left that had survived the darkness – and get rid of what was left of him. That way he could die without being a burden.

He slowly pulled one of his daggers out from its holster at his waist. It was time. No turning back now.

He felt his wrists for the optimum point and cut a deep gash in each of them. Tears welled in his eyes at the sting of the cuts, at the feel of his blood rushing out of them. He lay down on the ground, made himself as comfortable as possible, and waited for the end.

Alone, bleeding out into the dirt, Ignis wished he could see the stars one last time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV Cor

After the funerals for Clarus and Regis, Cor had driven out into the country, in desperate need of some time alone. 

He’d known of course for years that they’d been dead, but seeing them and having to assist in taking their bodies down from where they’d been left had shaken him to the very core. They’d been the only family he’d ever had and saying goodbye to them all over again had left him devastated and heartsick.

After ensuring that Noctis and Gladio were not alone – Prompto and Ignis were taking good care of them – he’d gone for his drive. Beset by a thousand memories and blinded by tears, he’d eventually just pulled over and wept; a weakness he’d never have indulged in around anyone else. They might not have shared his DNA but they’d been his older brothers in every way that counted; an unshakeable, caring force in his life since he’d first fought his way onto the Crownsguard aged thirteen.

Clarus had taught him to drive, Regis had taught him to play chess. They’d both teased him endlessly when he’d had his first kiss, had bought him his first legal drinks on a night when they’d all snuck in disguise out from the Citadel and they’d both looked fit to burst with pride the day he’d been awarded the title of Marshal of the Crownsguard. The hole in his heart left by their absence had not closed these past ten years. Now it seemed to feel wider!

He sat there for hours, grief pouring out of him in raw, guttural sobs before he finally felt calm enough to return to the Citadel and face a future without them. It was dark, but not the oppressive darkness they’d all struggled under for a decade. Instead, the night was beautiful; the constellations decorating the sky above like diamonds, the bright full moon illuminating the road ahead of him like a luminescent pearl.

There was a former haven reasonably the city, and he pulled over close by it. He knew there was a water source there, and he would need to wash his face before he could go back and face anyone else. His eyes felt too small for their sockets and he could see in the rear view mirror of his car that they were swollen and puffy from crying.

He walked the short distance from his car, breathing in the fresh night air deeply, still caught up in memories, before something caught his attention. Up ahead, he could see the well-shod feet of a prone figure. Someone was lying there! He hurried on ahead and then came to a grinding halt. For a moment, the ability to breathe seemed to leave Cor and the world swam around him.

Ignis was lying there on the dirt in front of him in a pool of his own blood. Two angry looking gashes glared ruby-red on his wrists, contrasting starkly with the rest of his skin which was deathly pallid. Six, how long had he been bleeding for? Long enough for the suit he was wearing to be sodden and scarlet.

A bloodied dagger lay by his hand. Oh gods, his poor boy had done this to _himself_!

Hurriedly coming back to his senses, Cor sped to his side, his years of endless training helping him keep his head. He held Ignis’s bloody wrists together and smashed the only potion he had left – an average curative – over them. Thank the Six it had been in his jacket pocket! To his intense relief, the wounds slowly closed, leaving pinkish scars in their wake. It wasn’t strong enough to get rid of them completely.

 _He already has too many scars!_ thought Cor despairingly, but it was all he had. Ignis had lost far, far too much blood and would need further medical attention. He leaned over the young man and gently slapped at his cheek. “Ignis!” he commanded sharply. “Come on Ignis, open your eyes. Stay with me, kid, come on.”

Blearily, Ignis opened his damaged eyes, but it was clear he was hovering on the very edge of unconsciousness. “M’sorry, Cor…” he whimpered weakly, reaching for the Marshal’s hand, sounding once more like the frightened six year old who had so completely stolen his heart when he’d arrived at the Citadel all those years ago. “Wanted to say goodbye…no phone…”

“None of that now,” Cor chided him gently, voice thick with tears as he stroked his hair gently with a bloodied hand. He wanted to ask a thousand questions, but that was not what Ignis needed right now. He had to get him to Insomnia and get medical help. Damn it, he’d buried both his brothers today, he wasn’t going to lose the boy he’d come to love like a son too. “You’re going to be all right, I’ve got you. Don’t you give up on me, Iggy!"

“S’all been for nothing, Cor,” Ignis mumbled, and the sheer despair in his tone tore at Cor’s heart. “They told me t’leave. I’ve nowhere to go.”

“Hey!” Cor caught the white face gently between his hands. “While I’m alive you’ve _always_ somewhere to go, you hear me? You’re coming back with me, I’m going to get you healed, and then I promise we can fix whatever’s happened. Just you hang in for me, there’s a good boy.” 

Ignis managed a tiny nod and then slid into unconsciousness.

What in the seven hells had happened? Cor had left the four of them after the funerals that afternoon looking heavy-hearted but as close as they’d ever been. He’d seen Ignis hold Gladio’s hand throughout the small ceremony, lending his support to the shield. What had transpired from then to when he’d found the advisor, slowly dying in his own blood?

He gathered Ignis into his arms easily enough; the man’s lithe build meant he didn’t weigh very much and carried him back to the car as quickly as he could. He laid him down on the backseat, dimly aware that he was now covered in Ignis’s blood. He quickly tucked his jacket around the young man too. It probably wouldn’t do much good, but Ignis was still far too white and far too cold.

Jumping into the driver’s seat he floored the car and sped back to Insomnia like a madman. He considered calling the others and demanding an explanation – he could feel fury start to burn in his chest at the memory of Ignis’s dejected voice: _“They told me t’leave. I’ve nowhere to go.”_

No, he would wait for now. Ignis was his priority. Cor would take him back to his own personal rooms and send immediately for a doctor – the hospitals were all in a very early stage of rebuilding. Then, and only then, when he knew that Ignis was safe, he would look for answers.

And the Six have mercy on the other three, because Cor wouldn’t.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV Gladio

It had taken Gladio only a few hours to come to his senses and realise what he’d done.

By evening, as the anger inside him died down, he’d sat in his room staring at the wall in abject horror as he realised he’d broken up with Ignis. In his fury – a fury not helped by the several whiskies he had had – he had pushed away the most wonderful, caring man he’d ever known.

He’d done much more than that though. Fucking hell, he’d watched Noctis push his _blind_ boyfriend over onto the floor. He’d watched Ignis pull a pot of scalding tea down onto his leg and cry out in agony. He’d watched the man who had had his back through everything scramble to his feet, distressed and disorientated, and he’d not made one move to help him.

Instead, he’d dumped him in front of Prompto and strode away. What kind of colossal heartless bastard was he? His father would have been ashamed.

Six, how could Gladio have resented that Ignis had only been doing his duty? He himself knew better than anyone that duty came first. It was their way of life. It was the reason Clarus had been beside Regis when he died. It was the reason that Gladio had known on their trip that should he presented with the choice of saving Ignis or saving Noct, he would have had to choose Noct, even if it broke his heart. Why had it been acceptable for him to do his job, but not for Ignis?

He’d never felt so low in his entire life. The hurt, bewildered expression on Ignis’s face as he’d turned to Gladio after Noctis’s dismissal haunted him. Gods, what had they done? Vision blurred with tears, he dug out his phone and dialled Ignis’s number. It rang out and went to the voicemail.

“Iggy, it’s me. I’m so sorry!” he sobbed down the phone. “I know I don’t even deserve for you to listen to me, love, but please call me back. I’m so, so sorry!”

Ignis never called back. Gladio called him twice an hour all night and sent something like a dozen text messages, but there was no reply. He went along to Ignis’s old chambers - he's pretty much been living with Gladio since they returned- and forced the door open, but there was no one there. He had no more ado but to sit and stare at his phone screen, praying for it to ring.

It didn't.

First thing in the morning, he went to find Noctis and Prompto. They weren’t in their bedrooms, but he eventually tracked them down in the throne room. Both were pale faced and bleary eyed. It looked as though he had not been the only one who hadn’t slept.

“We need to find Iggy!” Prompto said miserably, the second he saw Gladio and the shield was relieved to find the gunslinger was of the same mind. “I’ve been thinking about him all night. We shouldn’t have turned on him like that yesterday. When you found out my secret, he just said I was still one of you, that it didn’t matter. When I found his, I just pushed him out of the door. You’d literally just broken up with him and all I said was ‘the door’s over there’.” The blond’s expressive blue eyes welled with tears. “I was angry about my Mom and Dad. I still kinda am. But we shouldn’t have done that to him.”

Noctis said nothing; his face strangely blank.

“Hell right we shouldn’t have,” Gladio ground out thickly. “We need to find him now. I’ve checked his rooms but he’s not been there all night.”

“Noct...Noct told him to leave the Citadel,” said Prompto hesitantly. “Maybe he did?”

“Where would he go, though?” Gladio wondered, pulling out his phone again and hitting dial. 

They all jumped when a faint, tinny buzz broke the silence. Prompto hurried to find the source and went pale when he reached under the table Ignis had fallen by yesterday to find the advisor’s phone vibrating on the marble floor, showing 27 missed calls from Gladio, and 15 texts. 

“Fuck!” said Gladio in despair. “Now we’ve no way of getting hold of him – and he’ll still think we’re all mad at him. Shit, he’s going to miss his uncle’s funeral. We need to find him right now!”

“The Crownsguard will help us, right?” Prompto asked urgently. Noctis still hadn’t spoken, but neither of the other two were looking at him for permission. “The more hands we have, the more ground we can cover. I mean, someone must have spotted him leaving! There aren't that many blind guys in Insomnia.”

Just as he’d finished speaking, as if on cue, the door opened to admit Cor Leonis. The Marshal also looked pale and drawn – evidently no sleep had been the status quo last night – and Gladio noted that his shoulders were stiff with tension as he walked into the room to stand before them.

Shit, maybe he already knew what had happened and was here to berate them? He was protective of Ignis, had been since they were kids.

“Cor, thank the six you’re here!” Prompto spoke first, his words tumbling out in his desperation to fix the situation they'd found themselves in. “We screwed up, like, _really_ screwed up with Iggy. We had a fight yesterday and told him he wasn’t welcome here anymore. He’s gone, and he’s left his phone behind, and we need to find him! It's his uncle's funeral today, he shouldn't have to miss it. Can you help us?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cor said stiffly, eyes blazing, and now Gladio knew for certain that something was wrong. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Cor so angry. 

“Huh?” Prompto looked perplexed, and even Noctis had condescended to show some hint of emotion; staring at Cor in bemusement. Why would he not want to help them?

“I found Ignis last night,” Cor said and his voice was icy. Gladio began to feel uneasy. “Luckily, I decided to go for a drive yesterday afternoon. I found him on my way back to the Citadel only by the purest chance. Had I been ten minutes later, I would have been bringing back his body.”

 _What?_ Gladio’s whole body seemed to go numb. 

“Was he attacked?” Noct asked quietly, suddenly white faced. “Is…is he badly hurt?”

“No, he was not attacked,” Cor responded tonelessly. “He’d slit his wrists.”

Blood thundered deafeningly in Gladio’s ears as he sank bonelessly into a nearby chair, his legs no longer able to hold him up. He was dimly aware that whatever Prompto was holding had clattered to the ground and heard the blond sob. This...this had to be a dream. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be. 

_Ignis..._

“He’d slit his wrists,” Cor continued glacially. “Because the person he’d given his entire life to in service had ordered him out of the only home he’s had since he was six. Because the people who owed him understanding chose instead to turn away and left him alone. Thank the Six, I wasn’t too late. He’s alive, but he’s lost a massive amount of blood and the doctor says he’s unlikely to wake anytime soon. He’s in my rooms, and he’ll stay there while he recovers.” The statement held no room for challenge – Cor evidently didn’t give a shit about what Noctis had decreed yesterday about banishing him from the Citadel.

“Can…can I see him?” Gladio managed to say shakily, tears running down his face.

“No!” Cor replied at once.

“But we need to…” Prompto began, struggling to contain his sobs. 

“Understand this,” Cor growled, his voice harsh. “Ignis’s mind and heart are my priorities; not your need to assuage your guilt. When, and only when, I’m convinced that he actually wants to see you, and that your presence won’t make things worse for him, then I'll permit you to cross my door."

He walked away and slammed the door behind him. In the silence of the Throne Room, it sounded like judgement falling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV Ignis

Ignis regained consciousness slowly, sounds gradually strengthening from a mild blur into sharper discernibility. He wondered briefly if he was dead – but when his left eye fluttered open to inky blackness he decided, as tears of despair stung at his useless eyes, it could not be so. Surely the Astrals would not be so cruel as to deny him his vision in the afterlife!

Evidently, he was still alive, despite his best intentions to render himself less so.

Assessing his situation, he realised with a wave of panic that he had no idea where he was. He was definitely lying in a bed; he could feel the sheets under his hands and the warm weight of a duvet tucked around him. It was not the bed of his rooms in the Citadel though; the mattress was slightly softer than his own. And anyway, Noct had ordered him away from the Citadel…

He also suddenly became aware that there was a gentle hand carding through his hair, at the side of the bed he was facing away from. The hand wasn’t quite big enough to Gladio’s, though the fingers were strong and calloused. 

There was only one other person with hands like that would care enough to sit by his bed.

“Cor?” he croaked. Astrals, his throat was dry.

The hand immediately left his hair and travelled down to hold his hand. “You’re all right Ignis,” Cor’s voice assured him softly. “You’re safe. You’re in my rooms. Here, take a drink of water.”

“I’m back at the Citadel?!” Ignis went rigid with panic, making no move to take the bottle of water Cor was pressing into his hand. “Cor, I can’t be here! Noctis…”

“Noctis is aware you’re here,” Cor said placatingly, speaking in the same voice he’d used when Ignis had been a frightened child newly arrived at the Citadel. “And he’s made no objection. He also knows the only way you’ll be leaving these rooms before you’re well is over my dead body! Nothing’s going to happen to you, I promise. Come on, take a sip for me, there’s a good boy.”

Shaking, Ignis raised the bottle to his lips and took a small sip to relieve the dryness in his mouth. His memories seemed so tangled and vague. He thought he remembered Cor holding him, before. “I…you found me?” he said – half statement and half question.

“I did,” Cor said, his tone still soft, though it was tight with anguish. He was holding Ignis’s hand again. “Only just in time. Gods, Ignis, I thought I’d lost you!”

“I…I’m sorry you had to see it,” Ignis said, his own voice growing thick with tears. “I wanted to be away from the city so I wouldn’t distress anyone. I wanted to say goodbye to you, I promise…but my phone... I just couldn’t face anything anymore, Cor. Noct ordered me to leave and Gladio broke up with me and I just…I had nothing left!” Sobs began to burst out of him.

“Hey…sssh, sssh,” Cor’s able hands maneuvered Ignis gently into a sitting position and then drew him into a warm, secure embrace. “I’ve got you, Iggy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ignis melted into the embrace as, having opened the dam, a flood of grief poured out of him. So used to having been the one to stay strong, to be the one providing the comfort, the relief of having someone else hold him and be strong for him was profound.

Ignis cried in a way he’d never permitted himself to since the day they left Insomnia at the start of their trip. He cried for Regis and Clarus, who had stood straight-backed to face certain death, taking strength from the knowledge that their children were safely out of the city. He cried for his uncle who, though they were not especially close, had always been kind to him. He cried for Lady Luna who’d shown such remarkable courage and sacrificed her life to help Noctis on his quest, and for Ravus who had been so twisted by bitterness and hate. He cried for Noctis and Gladio, who had lost their fathers and struggled to make meaning of a world without them. He cried for Prompto who’d had to confront the horror of his heritage in the most brutal manner.

And lastly, when he’d exhausted his tears for the others, he cried for himself; the terror and pain he’d felt when Ardyn had burned his sight away, the despair of knowing he’d never look at Gladio’s face again, the dread of becoming useless and burdensome, and that final, awful desolation at knowing, despite giving everything he’d had to give and sparing nothing for himself, he was no longer wanted.

Through it all, Cor held him, rubbing his back and pressing gentle kisses to his hair. Ignis’s body shook from the force of his sobs, his chest hurt and his head throbbed but Cor’s strong arms never faltered in their warm embrace. He knotted his fingers in the older man’s shirt, remembering the many times he’d run to Cor for comfort when he was a lonely child struggling in adult’s world, trying to make sense of a destiny that seemed too big for him. Cor had never once turned him away. He didn’t really remember having a father, but he was sure this was what it must feel like.

He sobbed and sobbed until he had no tears left and he merely sat slumped against Cor’s shoulder, shoulders jerking with shuddering, uneven breaths and utterly exhausted. For the first time in his adult life, he felt uncertain, small, unsure. His destiny was no longer set in stone and he no longer knew his place in the world.

“Cor...,” he croaked, voice hoarse with crying. “What am I going to do now?”


	6. POV Ignis/Cor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the previous chapters. I've started so many various fics for prompts and they often fall by the wayside, but all your lovely words prompted me to keep this one going.

***POV Ignis***

“What you’re going to do first of all,” Cor told him with gentle firmness. “Is rest and let your body heal. The doctor will be by in about an hour to see if you need more blood – you lost a helluva amount. And then we’re going to start fixing what’s happened. For what it’s worth, those three idiots are sorry. They were wanting me to help find you even before they knew what had happened.” Ignis felt his heart tremble with emotion; bleak, stricken and hopeful all at once. “They won’t come here unless you want them to, Iggy. You do this on your terms – you want them to stay away, they’ll stay away. Your wellbeing is the priority here, ok?”

“Thank you,” said Ignis, with heartfelt gratitude, too exhausted and drained to move away from Cor’s embrace just yet now that he'd cried himself out. He didn’t think about how he was going to face the others again, that was too raw, a concern for future Ignis, and his brain was too woolly. He just wanted to rest. Astrals, he was so _tired._

“Hey,” Cor, nudged him awake gently when he evidently dosed off slumped against the Marshal's chest. “You lie back down again, you’ll be more comfortable that way. I’ll wake you when the doctor gets here.” Ignis let himself be guided back down onto the pillows and have the blankets tucked around him as though he were a child. His mind dimly registered that he was dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeved cotton tee that were not his own, but before he could think any further, weakened by his tears and extensive blood loss, exhaustion claimed him again.

*** POV Cor ***

Cor sat by his side a while, reassuring himself by the sight of Ignis’s chest rising and falling gently as he breathed. He was glad that Gladio, Prompto and Noctis had realised their mistakes and were sorry, but this situation was not one that could be fixed with an apology and a handshake. Nor would it be healthy for Ignis to bury his own anguish for the sake of helping the other three assuage their guilt at having been the catalyst that had driven him to desperation in the first place. It was going to need to be a step by step process.

Suddenly, Cor very much felt his age, the strain of the past week getting to him. Having lost almost everyone he cared about, he also felt very angry at the Astrals. Couldn’t they cut Ignis a break – the kid had suffered more than enough in his young life. To be fair, so had the other three too. They were young men who had seen entirely too much of death and destruction and sacrifice. Weren’t they deserving of some happiness now that they had risked everything to fulfil the prophecy and bring peace to Eos? Especially Ignis, who’d not only carried his own burdens but shouldered as much as everyone else’s that he could bear, even when his loyalty had left him blind.

 A hesitant knock that was far too early to be the doctor drew him out of his thoughts. He patted Ignis’s hand gently then rose to walk through his apartment and open the door.

To his surprise, a wan red-eyed Gladio stood on the threshold, a holdall in his hand. Cor had not seen him since he’d left the throne room two days ago but it didn’t look like the king’s shield had slept a wink since then.

Before Cor could open his mouth to remind him angrily that he’d told them all to stay away until Ignis himself wanted to see them, Gladio hurriedly held his palms out placatingly. “I’m not trying to get in or anything,” he said, voice hoarse and desolate. “I’m not gonna bother him. It’s just…I thought he’d need clothes and pyjamas and stuff. I’ve put his toiletries in…and his MP3 player. He’s always liked to listen to music when he’s stressed. I know ‘stressed’ doesn’t fucking cut it this time…but…well, here they are.” Teetering on the edge of tears, he handed Cor the bag.

Cor took it with a quiet nod. “He woke up a while earlier, but he’s asleep again now,” he told Gladio. “The doctor is due soon – he’ll have a look and see if he needs any more blood. Then we need to focus on helping him heal.”

“Can I see him?” Gladio pleaded. “If he’s asleep he won’t know I’ve been there. I won’t go into the room or anything, I won't even get close, just let me see that he’s not dead. Please, Cor! Fuck, I’ll go on my knees if you want.”

Cor wasn’t a total bastard. Angry as he was at Gladio, he recognised real remorse when he saw it and he hadn’t forgotten that Gladio had buried his father a couple of days ago. With a sigh, he stood back from the door and gestured to the shield to come into the apartment.

True to his word, Gladio did not go close to Cor’s spare room. He froze in place a few steps in, as soon as he could see Ignis’s slumbering form through the open doorway. His tears fell in earnest then, sliding down his cheeks and into his beard.

“How was he when he woke?” he asked shakily, scrubbing an arm across his eyes.

“As you’d imagine,” Cor said wearily. “He was most concerned about being turfed out of the Citadel but I’ve told him he’s safe where he is. He’s been looking after the three of you for so long, I think he needs a bit of time to look after himself for a while. Even when he went blind, the focus was still on preparing for Noctis’s return. He can’t push this aside like he’s done with everything else.”

“You’ll let me know if he needs anything, yeah?” Gladio pleaded. “Or if he asks for me?”

“I’ll let you know the second he wants to see you,” Cor told him. “I wouldn’t keep you away out of spite.”

“Ok,” Gladio drew a deep, shuddering breath and turned to leave again. He paused a second and drew out a mobile phone from his pocket and offered it to Cor. “Can you…can you give it back to him? I left a lot of messages when I couldn’t find him. I just want him to know I’m not just sorry because he did what he did. I was sorry long before that. I get it if he never wants to see me again, I just want him to know, that’s all.”

“I’ll make sure he gets it,” Cor promised, and took the phone.

Gladio’s massive frame heaved as he let out a tight sob. “Fuck, I love him so much!” he hiccupped desolately. “He was the only good thing I had left except Iris and I went and ruined it. I’ll do anything…anything...to fix it. I’ll walk over broken glass if he asks me.”

“Just give him some time, ok?” Cor cautioned, his voice much gentler now than it had been a few days ago. “This isn’t as simple as healing from a battle wound. Ignis needs to take things at his own pace and not be pushed. But I promise, if he wants to see you, I’ll call you at once.”

“Thanks,” Gladio nodded and hurriedly ducked out of the apartment.

 Cor could hear him sobbing in the corridor outside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update - I’ve deliberated a lot over this story as I want to pitch it right and not just imply “they all made up and everything was well again”, equally I don’t want it to just be a tale of misery with no hope. 
> 
> Hope its worth the wait.

Ignis, it transpired, did indeed need more blood and so spent the afternoon with a tube in his arm, replenishing that which he has lost.

Ignis’s conscience smote him once the doctor had left. There were little enough medical supplies available in the city as it was right now, so early in the rebuild process. Someone probably needed this blood for an injury they could not avoid. He had done this to himself. Was it fair that he should be so looked after? His mind led him in circles of self-reproach and misery and he was glad when Cor returned to the room to distract him from his thoughts.

“The Doc says that’s should be the last transfusion,” Cor told him, his hand coming to rest on top of the younger man’s. Ignis was glad of it. He felt so displaced and unsettled that he needed something to ground and anchor him. “We’ll be able to get you a bit more comfortable after it’s done and let you get showered and changed. I’ve got some fresh clothes for you. Then I think we need to talk.”

“Clothes?” Ignis’s heartbeat quickened. He knew there was no way Cor had left the apartment while he was asleep. Which meant... “Has...has Gladio been here?”

“He brought by some things for you,” Cor responded gently.

“How...how did he seem?” asked Ignis hesitantly. His emotions were a whirlwind. He wanted to see Gladio desperately, yet he also wanted to hide in Cor’s spare room alone for ever and not see anyone but the Marshal. He wanted to believe that Gladio was sorry, to forgive him even, but he was also angry as hell that Gladio could have pushed him away so coldly after all they had been through. Yet another part of him insisted he could work through all that if he could but feel Gladio’s arms around him again. Oh, Shiva, what was he to _do_?!

“He knows how wrong he was and how badly he fucked up,” Cor spoke carefully. He did not want to make too much of Gladio’s misery and make Ignis feel responsible for it, or under pressure to forgive. Equally he did not want to make the shield sound uncaring when it was obvious that he was devastated by what had happened and that all he cared about was trying to make things right with Ignis. “He’s pretty devastated that he was partly responsible for all your pain and for driving you to feel like you had no other option but death. He wants to atone for it and try to apologise to you, but you can decide when and if you want to hear that. As I’ve said, this is all on your terms, Iggy.”

“Then does he still...”

 _Love me_? Ignis couldn’t vocalise the question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. He did know even know which answer would comfort him.

Cor knew exactly what he wanted to ask, and took the phone Gladio has given him from his pocket. He hesitated, staring at the black oblong in his hand, and knew that whether he kept the phone away for now or gave it to him, he must be causing Ignis pain.

“The answer is yes,” he promised Ignis softly, and, making up his mind, he pressed the phone gently into Ignis’s palm. “Yes he does. He wanted me to give you your phone - you must have dropped it when Noctis...you dropped it in the throne room. He had realised what a callous idiot he’d been long before I found you and had been trying to call you. You’ve got eleven voicemails and fifteen texts but I’m not giving you this to force you to listen to them, ok? You only listen if you choose to. He just wanted you to know his remorse wasn’t just because we almost lost you.”

“Thank you,” said Ignis fervently, fingers curling around the phone.

“He brought you your MP3 player too, in case you feel some music might help a little,” Cor added, watching the turmoil on Ignis’s face anxiously. He leaned over to hug him close again. “We’re going to work through this, kid. I promise. You’re going to be ok.”

Ignis allowed himself to be held, and could only hope so.

***

Several hours later, Ignis - showered, changed and feeling a little stronger, physically at least - sat on the bed and hesitated over the phone. Should he listen? Would it help? Would it make him feel worse? He had never felt so unsure of anything in all his life.

Every decision he’d made, from childhood onwards, had been with the consciousness that he was doing his best in trying to do the right thing. He’d done an adult’s job with confidence at fourteen. He’d effectively acted as a parent while still a child himself, and felt proud of it. Since the fall of Insomnia he’d faced death, fought demons and been ready to throw his life down without the lightest hesitation. Why was he so uncertain now?

When did it get so damn _cold_?!

Ignis shivered as a creeping chill stole over him; raising goosebumps on his bare arms. It grew colder and colder, until his very teeth chattered. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled...he was not alone in the room! 

“Cor?” He asked shakily, gazing around in blind desperation.

Then he nearly jumped out of his skin as a low, mellifluous voice sounded next to his ear.

“Such sacrifices made, for the True King,” it said. “The Astrals honour your loyalty and constancy. I am charged with relieving some of your pain.”

Then, Ignis - paralysed with fear - felt two cold, smooth, gentle hands placed across his eyes. A scream rose in his throat as his body thrummed all over with magic, the sort that had claimed his sight. It never made its way past his lips. He felt colours dance through his mind, felt a warm, ticklish sensation on his left cheekbone and realised he was shaking all over.

“A small reparation.” said the voice, and the coolness in the room vanished.

And Ignis Scientia, for the first time in ten years, opened his eyes and _saw_. 


End file.
